The Handsome Headlamper.

As I gear up to head up the mountain to Lake Summit, a place that has marked so many childhood memories, I get a little emotional and particularly missing my brother, Lawson.  He loved this jolly July 4th holiday so much; being with our family, and all of the hoopla that surrounds it. Since his passing in 2013, I get especially teary remembering him buzzing around with giddy energy, seeing friends old and new. He had such a way of elevating everyone’s experience just by being present. And being himself.

To save myself from turning into a puddle face, I always focus on the things that kicked the most a$$ about him. There seriously are too many to write about here and now– but in memory of him this year, I will be honoring his infamous style in a special way.  He could rock, no joke- anything—and made it seem cool and effortless. (Featured here wearing his most prized accessory: his daughter… and pup in the background.)

He would look forward to fancier holiday occasions when he could wear our grandfather’s waaaaay too small monogrammed cardigan sweater over his shirt and tie. At special dinners you could find him sporting one of my dad’s old (usually madras) blazers (and/or madras pants). He even liked the lining so much in one of the blazers that at his boarding school graduation, he wore the blazer inside out.  (I’m sure he either had the class behind him donning the “reversed sport” look the following year or there was a new addendum in the rule book referring to properly worn attire for rising Seniors.) I also recall him wearing my mom’s vintage pepto-pink bellbottoms to a  party in high school. He got sort of attached and wore them more than a few additional times throughout that year. (Until they finally split. When he did a split.)

For an entire first semester (at least) of his 8th grade year he wore the same flannel shirt opened over a t-shirt. My sweet mom doing constant laundry to keep that shirt from walking away on its own. One day some older punk kids were messing with my bro and his friends and one a$$wipe shoved my brother’s favorite flannel down the drainage grate at the football field. On the way home, my mom could tell that Lawson was super down about it, but was holding it in 8th-grade-boy style. When my dad got home that evening, my mom told my dad, Boo. Boo was like F that– we’re gonna go get it! The next thing I knew they were scooping me up in my jammies, grabbing some fishing poles and we loaded up the family Wagoneer. We called some family friends to meet us for “support”; I love that my parents always made/make everything an event! Boo pulled right up onto that middle school football field for proper lighting, of course (such a rebel at heart). After a few (many) attempts, we reeled that puppy out of the sewer– and straight to a trash bag for safe keeping before headed to the laundry that night. You’re darn right Lawson “Louie” walked into that school the next morning wearing that shirt. I would have paid to see the look on those fool bullies’ faces. As the little sister I was worried this would upset those guys and they would do something worse. I remember my dad saying something to the effect of “nah, nah– he’s got the trophy now. This match is over.” And he was right. They all kinda laughed about it and it built this weird, respectful camaraderie. Dayum when is my natural, instinctive parental wisdom gonna kick in like that? (Shout out Boo & Jean! :)

When Louie wasn’t stepping out too fancy, he was in cargo shorts (pockets-a-plenty were a must for his consistent hanky and ratty koozie carrying), a sentimental T-shirt, worn-down Chaco shoes and a homemade belt. I have a collection of his hats and visors that are pretty much disgusting, but I’m sentimental about all of them because he was. He was very attached and wore things to the bone. I loved that about him.

This July 4th holiday, in his honor, we will be recognizing one of his other trademarks–  his headlamp obsession. The guy was never too far from a headlamp if it wasn’t already on his head or around his neck. (Sure would have been useful the night of the shirt rescue mission!) I was laughing as I recalled all of the places I remember him wearing headlamps; grooving on bar dance floors, outdoor concerts, when he was cooking inside or grilling outside, captaining a boat, bike or skateboard, reading before bed when we were roommates on famjam trips and scaling trees for nighttime adventure. He packed at least 3 on camping excursions, as he never wanted someone to wish for one and not have one. That just wouldn’t be right.

I inherited his headlamps, and have them hanging in my closet with some of his (now washed!) ripped bandana handkerchiefs.  I’m gonna keep those there for now, though will be gifting all of my extended family shiny, new headlamps this year in honor of Lou’. Maybe we’ll wear them atop our heads for extra light, or maybe we will feel safe just knowing we have them around us if needed….much how I feel about his spiritual comfort around me.

I find his presence, even though no longer tangible, a guiding light every day. Now we get to make “a little light of it” as we honor his impeccable, admirable, original and bada$$ style. Here’s to you buddy. Keep lighting up the night wherever you are. xo